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I joined the circle, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the library conference room, and braced myself. Things were about to get weird.

Immediately, I sensed that Laughter Yoga draws two types of people: Those in desperate need of a laugh, and those who can't stop laughing. From outward appearance only, the group also covered both ends of the economic and age spectrums.

Not that I was judging, because the instructor explained that Laughter Yoga is a judgment-free place where participants are encouraged to engage in childlike play. She taught us to clap and say, "Very good, very good, YAY!"

The concept of gathering to laugh for better health originated in India in 1995, when Dr. Maden Kataria met with five people in Mumbai Park to test the benefits of laughter therapy. After the first few gatherings, Dr. Kataria ran out of jokes. He implemented laughter for no reason when he realized that the body can't differentiate between real and fake laughter.

In the years since, Laughter Yoga has spread to 70 countries, and research has proved the power of laughing. For starters, sustained laughter reduces stress hormone levels that elevate blood pressure, aids digestion, acts as a pain killer, eases depression, stimulates the heart, enhances circulation and strengthens the immune system. Laughing in a group also helps us feel connected with others.

The instructor led us through yogic breathing and asked us to laugh from deep within our diaphragms. Ho ho ho, ha ha ha. We laughed to the tune of Beethoven. We introduced ourselves and laughed. We looked like morons doing the conga line. It felt ridiculous miming throwing my problems onto the floor and then stomping on them, laughing. It also looked and felt seriously funny. My body was falling for the tricks. I felt like I was in a comedy club, two drinks in.

The hysterics hit when we were lying on our backs, waving our legs in the air like babies. It became a silent, gasping laugh, sweaty and tearful. It didn't stop when she asked the class to center ourselves with deep breathing. Just the suggestion struck me as hilarious. Then the ridiculous chortles that came from trying to stifle my laughter sent me over the edge.

That is when I noticed one or two of the participants possibly judging me. I imagined them after class whispering, "How about that conservative-looking 40-year-old? She was the looniest in the bin!" The thought brought me to near-passing-out laughter.

I drove home relaxed and exhausted. My abs were sore. I chuckled into the next day. My skeptical, introverted Marine reluctantly joined me for the next session. I watched and waited. He hit the tipping point at the 40 minute mark, startling me with the volume and intensity of his machine-gun laughter. Together, we lost it. Luckily it was laughing class; we were not asked to leave.

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